She gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, come in, Mr. Pettigrew, for heaven’s sake.”
She stepped back to avoid his sopping figure as he splashed up the steps and into the hall.
“You are an angel, Miss Caversteed,” he breathed fervently. “An angel.” He tried to possess himself of her hand, then changed his mind and sneezed instead. “I do beg your pardon, but I couldn’t stay away. I saw what happened in the park.” He glanced over at Benedict and frowned, then turned back to Georgie. “Is Juliet well? Bee stings are no trifling matter. And Juliet is such a delicate creature. Why—”
Georgie cut off what promised to be a long list of Juliet’s attributes. “She will be perfectly well, I am sure, Mr. Pettigrew. But please, you must go, before Mother hears you. You know she disapproves of your association.”
Simeon scowled. “My love for Juliet could survive anything! Even the direst of opposition—”
“Yes, yes,” Georgie said impatiently, “that’s all very well. But you’re dripping on the rug.”
Simeon looked down. “Oh, sorry.” He stepped sideways onto the checkerboard tiles. A steady stream of water dripped from his hat and made a shiny puddle by his feet. He shot Wylde a beseeching look, as if to appeal to him man-to-man. “My love and I have been cruelly separated, sir. Like Romeo and Juliet. My heart is torn asunder, cleft in twain!”
“That’s Hamlet, not Romeo and Juliet,” Benedict said quellingly.
Georgie sent him a surprised glance—who’d have thought Wylde would know his Shakespeare?—then turned back to Simeon. “You must be perfectly miserable, Mr. Pettigrew. Why don’t you go back to… wherever it is you’re staying… and dry off?”
Simeon shot her a kicked-puppy look. “What is corporeal discomfort, Miss Caversteed, when the pain in my heart, nay, my soul is infinitely worse?”
“You won’t say that when you have pneumonia,” she said tartly. “Who will Juliet marry if you die?”
He brightened marginally. “You mean to say that you support our union?” He caught her hands in his own thin, wet fingers. She tried to tug them back, but his grip was surprisingly strong, despite the sodden bouquet.
She nodded. “I do. You seem to genuinely care for my sister. As this present situation proves. But you cannot go standing around in rainstorms. There is nothing romantic about the ague, I assure you.”
He opened his mouth to argue. “But I—”
She shot a pleading glance at Wylde. “Would you escort him home?”
“It will be my pleasure.” Benedict eyed Simeon darkly. “Let go of her hands, you.”
Simeon glanced down and seemed surprised to find himself still clutching Georgie’s fingers. He dropped them immediately. “Oh, sorry.”
Benedict nodded and opened the door, ushering him out into the rain.
“Would you like to borrow an umbrella?” Georgie asked.
Wylde shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Until tomorrow, then?”
“Yes. And thank you for your help today.”
He accepted that with a tilt of his chin and a charming flash of a smile. “I can honestly say that I’ve rarely spent a more entertaining morning, Miss Caversteed. Good day.”
Chapter 15.
Juliet caught Georgie’s arm as they paid their shillings for entry and started toward Vauxhall’s rotunda. The hum of the crowds and the bright sound of music masked her urgent whisper, but she still glanced at Mother, ahead of them on the wide tree-lined avenue.
“Georgie, I need your help.”
Georgie raised her brows in silent question.
“I need you to occupy Mother while I see Simeon. I’ve arranged to meet him by the water cascade in fifteen minutes.”
Georgie groaned. “Juliet!”
“I need to show him I’m fully recovered. He worries about me. It’s so sweet. And I want to make sure he hasn’t caught a chill after his drenching yesterday.”
“All right. But just for a few minutes.”
